


There'll Be No Sleep This Night

by Kitiara_Raistlin



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3438284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitiara_Raistlin/pseuds/Kitiara_Raistlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif visits Loki's cell. Neither say a word. Neither can see the truth. Neither ever could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just pretending for this story that Thor 2 didn't happen.

Sif didn't know why she did it. It never made her feel better. It never helped. All she knew was that there were some days she had no choice. She would lie awake late into the night, waiting, till she could be certain she would not run into a drunken Fandral, returning from some feast or Thor, pacing the halls of the palace thinking of Midgard and the Lady Jane. She would wait until she was certain she would see no one, and then she would slip out of bed, dress quickly and walk out into the night.

Every step that brought her closer to the dungeons, her mind would yell at her, screaming to know why she did this to herself, but she always ignored it. Never had she, once started, turned back.

She made her way down to the prison cells and would find Loki's. She would walk towards it, her pride refusing to let herself glance towards the prison guards in embarrassment, and she would stand before it, looking in.

It was a plain white room, with comfortable furniture and stacks of books. She didn't think she had ever seen Loki sitting in one of the chairs however. He was always on the ground, his back against the far wall, his long legs crossed, a book in his hand. He never looked up. He never acknowledged her. He never said a word, (that in itself, she had to admit, was unusual for Loki). And he would read. Occasionally he would turn a page.

She would stand there, almost at attention, her legs a little apart, her arms behind her, watching him.

There were times, darker days, when she would wonder how much she had to answer for the fact that he was in that cell. Could she have stopped it?

_His hand in her hair, pulling her towards him. Her arms around his neck, kissing him, holding him, needing him…_

She had once looked on it as a weakness. A mistake. A mistake she kept coming back to. His smile, mocking and yet strangely sincere, each time she found herself in his arms again.

But there had been the screaming matches too. No, wait. Loki had never screamed. Maybe they could have worked through it if he had. He had always been calm. Biting.

She told herself it had been complicated. Odin, Thor, her own family, their friends. So many people had had expectations. And she did care about Thor, didn't she? She once even fancied herself in love with him. And yet, she wondered now if she ever had been. If she truly cared about him, in that way, wouldn't his feelings for the Lady Jane hurt? But she couldn't care less. He still made her laugh, spending time with him still made her happy, but seeing him care for someone else was nothing, nothing to the pain she had felt when she heard of Loki's fall into the void. Then she had hurt, then she had raged, then she had wanted to tear out Odin's other eye for allowing himself to be so blind.

But she had been blind too hadn't she?

So many people to blame, so many faults to acknowledge. Why did Loki have to declare war on Midgard? Everything else. It could have been repaired.

 _But not this_ , she thought, as she stared into his prison.

Eventually she would turn her back on him, forbidding herself the weakness of a sigh, and walk resolutely away.

She would return to her room but she would not lie back down on her bed. Instead she sat up by the window and looked out at the slowly brightening sky. She would not sleep on these nights.

* * *

Loki could always sense her coming. He didn't know how exactly. But he knew, every time, when it was her footsteps upon the stone floor. And he would raise his hand and tilt it, performing a quick spell, casting the illusion across the small room. Then he would stand, leaving behind him an image of himself, book in hand. Occasionally he'd remember to have it turn a page.

He'd cross over to the far side of the cell, sink down onto his knees, inches away from her, and watch her, examining the curve of her jawbone, the color of her eyes, the wave of her hair. He'd study her closely, as if each time might be the last. And it might. He never knew, when she walked out, if she would ever return again.

She never said anything. So he didn't either.

He wondered if she knew she was looking at an illusion.

He wondered if she could sense him, inches away from him, his cell's shield all that was keeping him from pulling her to him.

He wondered what she would say if he let the illusion drop and she was left there, staring directly into his eyes.

And he wondered why she came. She hadn't cared before. Perhaps it was because of Jane Foster. Yes, that must be it. Thor was distracted. Thor was in love with someone else. Sif was hurt and so she came here, just as before when he was free to kiss her and bury his fingers in her hair. But eventually Jane Foster would age and die and Thor would realize the awe-inspiring warrior that had been fighting at his side for centuries now, and then Sif would stop coming.

He shook his head at his brother's stupidity. Who could look at any woman, even Jane Foster, when Sif was by your side?

She would stay for an hour, sometimes even two, and then she would leave. As soon as her footsteps faded, Loki would drop the illusion. He would stand up and walk towards his bed and lie down on it, staring up at the ceiling. He would not fall asleep those nights.


	2. Chapter 2

It happened after one of those sleepless nights. Sif was short on sleep and even shorter on temper. She knew she needed action; she needed to move, to keep her thoughts occupied anywhere else except in that cell. If she pushed herself long enough and hard enough today, she’d be too exhausted tonight to pay another visit to the dungeons.

She strapped on her armor and went to sparring ring. There were a small handful of warriors present and for the next two hours she kept herself busy, with practice fight after practice fight. It was all too easy. None of them offered much of a challenge. She thirsted for more, some way to lose herself completely in the flow of battle.

“Sif!”

She turned at the sound of her name and saw the Warriors Three approaching her. She smiled. At last she might have a real fight.

Sif smiled. “Have you come for a beating?”

Volstagg laughed. “Not today. I’m afraid I had rather a festive time last evening. You should have been there Sif. Mead flowed like water!”

“A good spar is good for a hangover.”

“Hogun shall have to do. My head’s to close to splitting already.”

Hogun smiled. “Happy to. Swords or fists?”

“Fists. I feel like getting my hands dirty.” Sif winked.

The two faced each other and raised their fists as Volstagg and Fandral got comfortable with seats on the low wall.

Hogun lunged. Sif dodged and came back with a punch of her own that made contact.

“Ouch,” Fandral exclaimed, wincing dramatically. “Come on Hogun! You can do better than that!”

Hogun grinned ruefully and hit back.

Sif felt a flare of pain across her arm and relished it.

Fandral and Volstagg watched with interested as the two exchanged blows. It was a tense fight, both combatants quick on their feet and keen with their aim. It lasted a good fifteen minutes, the two stepping around each other like dancers, being careful, taking their time and striking quick and sure.

“Enough!” Hogun exclaimed at last. “I yield!”

Sif wiped a strand of sweaty hair out of her eyes and grinned. A fine trickle of blood ran from a split lip and she could feel the bruises on her arms. She felt better than she had in a long time.

“Come on Fandral. I dare you,” she challenged.

“You must be mad,” said Hogun with a rueful laugh. “You want _more_ after that?”

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight,” argued Volstagg, more serious. “You’re spent.”

“Am I now?” She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. “Well then Fandral might just stand a chance of beating me for once.”

Fandral raised an eyebrow and grinned. “That’s bold talk.”

“If you’re scared though I’d understand…” She smiled at him sweetly.

The man jumped to his feet, unbuckled his sword and laid it aside before coming over and raising his hands. “You asked for it.”

Volstagg frowned but didn’t protest again. Hogun came over to sit beside him, wincing at his wounds.  The dance began again and the two watched the fight for a minute or so in silence.

“Have you seen Thor today?” asked Hogun suddenly.

“Briefly,” said Volstagg. “He seemed in low spirits.”

“Pining for Midgard?” asked Fandral, ducking a blow from Sif and winking at her.

Sif was aware that all three of them, in their own unique ways, had been trying to gage her feelings about Thor and the Lady Jane ever since the former’s first visit to Midgard.

She rolled her eyes. “Feel free to talk as much as you want,” she told Fandral, “it just makes it even easier for me.”

“I think,” said Volstagg thoughtfully, more concerned for Thor at the moment, then Sif’s possible romantic feelings, “the Lady Jane is only partly responsible for his dour mood of late. The All-Father and All-Mother have also been grieved since Loki’s attack of Midgard and his imprisonment.”

Fandral snorted. “After what Loki did while Thor was banished, they should be glad he’s locked away where he can’t cause any more destruction.”

“Are we sparring or are we talking?” demanded Sif, through gritted teeth.

“We’re just worried about Thor,” said Hogun.

_Of course you are_ , Sif thought and was surprised at her own bitterness.

“Thor’s melancholy will pass,” said Fandral, side-stepping another of Sif’s blows.

“I hope so.”

“The nine realms are safer with Loki locked away. And Thor and Asgard will be better off with him gone. Thor will get over it.”

Sif lashed out. Suddenly it wasn’t a dance anymore. It was a tavern brawl where everything was fair game. She knocked him down and punched, hard. Caught off guard, Fandral took several hits before managing to shove her off him and regroup. He got in a good kick, but she still have the upper hand and she knocked his legs back out from under him before he had a chance to stand.

She lay in several good blows before he rolled away. He stood and threw himself at her, but Sif dodged neatly and brought her elbow down hard against his back. He turned but she had grabbed his arm and pinned it against his back. She punched had and fast several times.

“I yield!”

She punched again. And again. Then drew back her fist a third time but stopped. Someone had grabbed her wrist. She turned around to see Volstagg gripping her.

“He said yield.”

“Oh.” She let go of Fandral, who stumbled a few feet away from her. “I didn’t hear him.” She pulled her hand away from Volstagg. “Well,” she said, feeling suddenly exposed and self-conscious. “I think I’m done for day. If you will excuse me.” She nodded curtly and walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest I have *no* idea where this is going. It was originally intended just to be a one-shot. But scenes keep suggesting themselves to me. So now it's a three-shot? Is that even a thing?

“Sif?”

Sif sighed and turned around. Thor was approaching her across the courtyard. She leaned back against the balustrade and waited for him to reach her. He looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. Two emotions she didn’t often associate with Thor and suspected had somehow resulted from her little match with Fandral. That or he had somehow gotten wind of her visits to the dungeon. Feeling suddenly self-conscious herself, Sif forced a smile.

“Thor. It’s good to see you. How are you?”

“I am well. But, I…I mean I…you see-” Thor appeared at a loss for words. “I have been with our friends.”

“Indeed?” Sif raised an eyebrow and relaxed a little inwardly. So it was about Fandral.

“Yes. You saw them this morning I believe?”

“I did,” she agreed. “At the sparring ring.”

“So I heard. They are concerned for you.”

“I would be more concerned for Fandral. He was the one that lost.” She turned away.

“Volstagg expressed the view that you were not quite yourself.”

“Oh?” She glanced back at him

“Sif…I am afraid that I have not been very considerate. I have been too wrapped up in my own concerns and as the Warriors Three have since hinted, not so subtly, I may not have considered the feelings of some of my dearest friends as I ought to have done. You are my friend Sif. I value your advice and have always been proud to have your sword at my side. You are the fiercest warrior I have ever met and there is none I would rather trust with my life.”

It occurred to Sif that the others had clearly chalked her actions up to jealousy over Thor and the Lady Jane. She should have been relieved that their guess was so far from the truth. Yet for some reason it angered her instead.

“I have always felt the same about you Thor. You are a fine warrior.”

“I am glad of your good opinion. But I fear-, I know what has been thought and expected and I would not deny there was a time…Sif, you have every right to be resentful.”

“Resentful? Of?” She was _not_ going to make this easy for him.

“Of? Well of…Midgard.”

“Of a world that has existed for centuries? And why would I be resentful of that?” She cocked her head to one side and gave him a piercing stare. He shifted under it.

“Well of my time on Midgard and-”

“I love a battle as much as you do Thor, but I have no great regret over missing the war against the Chitauri. There will be other fights.”

“You know of what I speak.”

“Then say it or be gone.”

“Jane. The Lady Jane.” He let it out in one long breath. “I know what was intended between us Sif. And any man would be honored to have your love but I am afraid my heart is spoken for. It was not by choice. But neither would I change it even if I could. I fear I have not behaved with honor towards you and for that I am truly sorry.”

“I am glad any man would be honored. But you are not.”

“What?”

“I do not love you Thor. And whatever the Warriors Three have imagined, I am not pining over you.”

“Oh.” If it were possible, Thor looked even more uncomfortable.

“I did however beat two of them in a fair fight today. Perhaps their egos were a bit wounded and needed to imagine me suffering from a broken heart in order to nurse their wounds properly.”

Thor coughed and nodded, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but there right now. It was almost endearing and Sif felt her temper cooling a little. She laughed. Thor glanced up at her sheepishly and smiled back.

“However,” she continued, feeling a little sorry for him, “If it would be easier for you, you can tell them we have had a heart to heart in which I was saddened to hear of your decision but that we parted as good friends. But if they ever say anything about it to me, they can expect a beating worse than the one I gave Fandral today.”

Thor laughed. “Fair enough.” He shook her hand heartily and walked away. Sif watched him go.

Of course the Warriors Three hadn’t guessed the truth. They had probably never even imagined such a possibility. The closest they had ever come had been one night, it felt like ages ago now, at a feast. It had been to celebrate some exploit of Thor’s, some great battle. Late into the evening she had found Loki, they had both had rather a lot to drink; they’d been careless and Fandral had seen them.

He had confronted them the next day when they were all six together.

“I saw you two last night,” he had said with a grin. “It was quite a kiss.”

She had looked up at him, shocked. She felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon her. A thousand emotions had run through her head. They’d been careful to keep it a secret. There were so many expectations. There were so many reasons it was a terrible idea. And then she and Loki had had a blazing argument the night before. After that kiss…and it had been one of the best, most intense kisses of her life.

But Loki had said something about Thor. She couldn’t remember now what it was but it had been snide. She hadn’t been able to ignore it. Everything had escalated from there. She had barely looked at him all day.

And yet, there was some small corner of her mind that had almost been relieved to have it out. Did it have to be a secret?

She was almost about to respond, with what she wasn’t sure, but she thought it was to tell Fandral to mind his own business (that would be answer enough), when Loki laughed.

Sif had turned to look at him. It was a cold laugh. Almost cruel. Or perhaps it just sounded so to her own ears. Fandral had laughed too.

“You should see your face Sif,” Fandral had said. “Of course I know it wasn’t you. But the girl did have a passing resemblance to you from a distance. Who was she Loki?”

Loki had shrugged. “No one important.”

“Someone with poor taste at least,” said Sif, leaning back in her chair. She didn’t know why she had said it. The words had just come out. But Loki’s laugh had still been ringing in her ears.

* * *

 

He had laughed. Loki remembered that.

Fandral had said he’d seen them kissing and Sif had looked at him horrified. She had stared, speechless, humiliated. It was all very well to slip away with Loki occasionally, when she was angry or hurt or wanted to feel independent, an entity separate from the Warriors Three and Thor. But to have them know…Loki could see how awful and embarrassing the idea had been to her. They had all seen it.

He had laughed.

It was the only thing he could think to do. He would not allow himself to be shamed that she viewed their…contact, with such mortification. He could make a joke of it.

But then it had been Fandral that was joking and the matter had been dropped and promptly forgotten.

But as Loki lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling of his prison, he could still see her expression.

It hadn’t really been forgotten, had it?


	4. Chapter 4

The last time the two had talked had been shortly before Sif and the Warriors Three had gone to Midgard to find Thor. She had slipped away from the others, as they vented their feelings; their distrust of Loki, their alarm at Odin’s sleep and their fear that if Thor did not return soon, matters would only grow worse.

She had gone in search of Loki. He was still in the throne room but no longer seated. Instead he stood by the window, but his back was to the view. He was looking up at the throne, thinking....well who really knew what thoughts went through Loki’s head?

He had turned at the sound of her step and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“The Lady Sif returns? Two visits in but one hour? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“May we speak in private?” she asked, glancing towards the two guards.

He studied her for a minute, an unreadable expression upon his face and then he smiled. It was a smile Sif knew but one she had never quite liked and did not know why. “Leave us,” he ordered. He did not speak loudly but he spoke with authority and the guards left quickly. “Now, what is it you want?”

She came closer to him, tried to meet his eye and keep her voice gentle. “It’s about Thor.”

Loki laughed. It was a soft, quiet laugh and there was no humor in it. But Sif could think of no other word to describe it other than ‘laughter’. “I have already discussed this with you and the Warriors Three. Did you think your charms would sway me?”

She gritted her teeth but refused to get angry. “I know Loki, that it has not always been easy, being Thor’s brother-”

Loki laughed again. “You’d be quite shocked at what I could tell you about that.”

“But,” she continued, ignoring him. “You have to know what danger Asgard is in. Odin lies on brink. You say the Allmother fears he will not wake again. If that is true Thor should be at his side. With his family.”

“Odin was the one that chose to banish him.”

“But the circumstances-”

“Has Thor miraculously changed already, with his short time on Midgard? Thor, the man who is so obstinate and mulish? That would be a miracle indeed. I am afraid Sif that you must do without him for the time being. It was my _father’s_ wish.” He laid a strange inflection on the word father.

“Asgard is on the brink of war with Jotunheim! We need Thor!”

“Asgard will have to make due with me!”

She raised her hand. There was a long heavy silence. She wanted to slap him. But for once she forced herself to remain calm. Lashing out at Loki had never fixed anything in the past. Perhaps if she pushed through this, she could understand, she could see what was behind it and then she’d know what to say, she’d know how to have him see reason…she’d understand why she kept coming back to him…she’d understand…and maybe it would all be alright…

“Loki.” She didn’t slap him. Instead she stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his face.

He pulled back, sharp and quick as if she had indeed struck him.

“My decision is final,” he said coolly, turning his back to her. “You may tell the Warriors Three you have failed to change my mind.”

She turned on her heels and stormed out. She found the Warriors Three as quickly as she could. They did not seem to have particularly noticed her absence. Volstagg was eating, Fandral about to lose his temper, Hogun in deep thought. Fandral exploded within seconds and he and Volstagg began to squabble.

“Stop it! Both of you stop!” She had said.  “We all know what we have to do.” And they had gone to Midgard.

She wondered, afterwards, whether it really was what they had had to do?

**********

He had been thinking of Odin. He had been thinking of Jotunheim and Laufey. He had been wondering, trying out plans in his head. He understood that he had come to a point of no return in his life. He must make decisions that could give him everything he had ever wanted…or bring all that he had down to ruin…

She had come to him then and asked to speak with him alone. Would she want to be alone with him if she knew what he really was? He had smiled at the thought.

It was about Thor. That was why she was here. He was sure of that. But a part of him almost hoped that it wouldn’t be. Perhaps she would mention Odin, give her sympathies. Ask how Frigga was holding up. It was foolish. He knew it was. And he laughed at his own foolishness the moment she spoke,

“It’s about Thor.”

Of course it was. It was always about Thor. He was almost insulted that she thought she could use their history together to change his mind. She had always made her feelings on their encounters clear, when not with word, then with action. And now she thought she could act as if their relationship had been important to her? Important enough to warrant special favors?

“I know Loki, that it has not always been easy, being Thor’s brother-”

He had laughed again. If she was disgusted before at their meetings, how much more would she be horrified if she learned of his true heritage? He was almost tempted to show her his true face here and now, just to punish her, just to make her hate herself too.

She had continued to plea, she had mentioned Odin’s health and then she had mentioned Jotunheim and he’d snapped.

He had seen Sif raise her hand and for one minute he thought he would feel the sting of it across his check and almost relished the thought. But she didn’t strike him. Of course not. She was trying to fake some small semblance of feelings, trying to talk to him one on one as she might to a child. Hitting him would have broken that illusion and he could see the realization of that flash across her face.

She had instead stepped forward and touched him. And he had recoiled. All she wanted was Thor. And all Loki was, was a Jotun.

 _Well_ , he thought, as he heard her footsteps echo away and he had looked back towards the throne, _that and King. For now I am King. That is all. And so I will do what I must._


	5. Chapter 5

Sif remembered the first time. Thor, Loki, the Warriors Three, and she had been sent to protect a tribe in a distant corner of the Nine Realms that had been under attack by a horde of beasts. The beasts had been strong, fierce, and fast. But their leader had been the worst of all. It had seemed completely invulnerable. Sif had been young; it had been one of her first battles. She would never forget that one brief instant in the heat of combat when she had feared they wouldn’t make it out. It was terror she was ashamed of, and would never admit to another living soul, and it had shaken her. And then suddenly Loki had called out, and his words had filled her with hope:

 “Under the left rib! Thor! I know of this creature! You must strike it under the left rib! It is its only weakness!”

Loki was himself cornered. Thor was battling the beast leader but either did not hear or did not choose to listen to his brother.

Sif had broken through the small group of beasts attacking her and had run towards the leader. Thor was knocked down to the ground and she leapt over him. The leader raised her weapon to her, and she knew she’d have one chance at this. She threw her sword and it found its mark, sure and true, burying itself deep under the monster’s left rib. It let out a horrendous cry and toppled to the ground. The remaining creatures quickly fled

And yet somehow, when the bodies were cleared and the feast begun, no one seemed to remember that it was she who had struck the killing blow. Thor was the one all the tribes people were fawning over, cooing about ‘Odinson’, the great prince who had come to their rescue. Thor was the one raising his glass of mead and making speeches, being asked to tell his great feats of valor.

Sif had tried to put up with it. She truly had. But when she felt that if she had to hear Thor be asked to describe one more time how the beast leader had fallen, that she would strike him, she had turned on her heels and walked away from the feast and out of the village.

She’d followed the road back to where the Bifrost had first deposited them. It was near a pool of water. There were rocks and trees scattered all around it, and a waterfall gently falling. It was peaceful here. Idyllic. And apparently she was not the only one who thought so.

Sitting on one of the large boulders, sat Loki reading a book. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps.

He smirked. “How’s the feast?”

Sif crossed her arms. “I didn’t see you there for any of it.”

“Ah no. I’ve been to enough feasts where my brother is the center of attention. Tell me, has he started singing The Ballad of Thor and the Cyclopes yet?”

“No.”

“Then he has another few hours to go.”

There was a long silence. Sif was angry and wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out a way to do so without sounding petty. After all the beasts were gone and the tribe saved. She knew she shouldn’t really care about who got the credit and yet…

“Tell me,” said Loki, as if reading her thoughts. “Why have you left the feast early? I would think you’d be enjoying your victory.”

“It’s not my victory.” She said it before she could stop herself.

“True,” agreed Loki, “when the chief was thanking Thor, I did not hear my brother mention who had struck the killing blow…or for that matter who had known where to strike it.” He snapped his book shut and a flash of some emotion Sif didn’t quite catch, shot across his face. Was it jealousy?

“You’re right.” She felt a little guilty suddenly. Here she was doing much what Thor was doing. She’d been so caught up in her own victory (and her own slight), that she hadn’t even thought of Loki’s. “I never could have killed that thing without your help. Thank you. How did you know?”

He shrugged. “I read.”

“So all those times you’re in the library...you’re reading about things like that?”

Loki had an odd expression on his face, but he shook it off and smiled. “That…and magic…and lands, and customs, and worlds…there’s so much to learn. So much to know. I can’t understand how my brother could have so much disdain for it all.”

It was getting dark. Sif shivered.

“It’s cold.”

“Is it?” Loki looked around. “I don’t feel it.” He opened his book again. “I am sure there is fire and warmth back at the feast.”

Sif snorted. Loki chuckled at the sound.

“Thor can have his feast,” she snapped. “I’m not going to act like I don’t know who killed what here. And tomorrow I’m going to confront him. I’m going to tell him exactly what I think of his behavior here today.”

“That’s something I’d quite like to see,” said Loki smiling.

“I have to fight for everything! I have to prove myself again and again, more than any of them ever have to do. And now Thor takes away my victories!”

“To be fair to my brother, I doubt it was on purpose. He just…sees very little that’s not himself.”

She snorted again. “He can’t even see his friends? He can’t see me?” _I am as much of a warrior as the others,_ she wanted to yell to the sky.

There was an awkward pause. Loki seemed to be trying to pick his words carefully. “I know my brother does care for you Sif…”

She hadn’t quite meant it that way. Or had she? She wasn’t sure. Maybe that was why she was so angry. After all she wasn’t mad Fandral or Hogun for not correcting Thor.

“Does he?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She knew this was anger turning into something much uglier but she didn’t stop herself as she walked up closer to Loki. “Well maybe he should be taught that he can’t take the things he cares about for granted.” She pulled Loki towards her and kissed him.

Loki pulled away. “Sif…”

“Just once, don’t you just want to be out of his shadow? Don’t you want to hurt him?”

There was a long, heavy pause and then Loki was kissing her back.

Sif wasn’t a fool. While she would come to see more clearly in the years to come, even back then she had a vague idea of Loki’s resentment of his brother. She had used it. And she knew that wasn’t fair.

But somehow, she forgot about that as the evening wore on and kisses became deeper and more passionate. Somewhere in the night, as the waterfall fell and the insects started their midnight serenade, she forgot about Thor. She forgot she was angry. In fact, she didn’t think she was angry anymore. There was just her. And there was just Loki. And somehow there was peace. A peace she had never felt before. And the peace lasted so that the next morning, Sif didn’t care anymore about confronting Thor. She even smiled to him, perhaps a little more when she noticed his splitting hangover, but she didn’t begrudge it when the chief once again shook his hand vigorously and thanked him profusely.

The six of them had walked back out of town. Loki was in the rear. Sif could feel his eyes on her. She’d wanted to fall behind and speak to him but wasn’t sure exactly what to say. And besides, with the others around…

“Sif?”

“Hmm?” She turned to Thor.

“Here. The chief presented this last night.” He handed her a dagger with a silver hilt that had a large emerald set in the center. The stone’s shade of green suddenly reminded her of Loki and last night. Embarrassed, she tried to hand it back to Thor. “No.” He pushed it away. “It was presented as thanks for saving their tribe. You deserve it. You did strike the killing blow. I sought you last night to give it to you but could not find you. You did not stay at the feast?”

“I was…tired.”

He smiled. “It was a most glorious battle. And you fought bravely and nobly. I have never seen a fiercer shieldmaiden save for the Allmother. I was honored to fight alongside you.”

Sif couldn’t help beaming up at him. Thor held out his hand and she shook it warmly.

They returned to Asgard. Thor excused himself to go and make a report to Odin, and the Warriors Three all drifted off, to see their friends, family, or merely to wash away the grim and dirt of battle. But Sif held back and turned to Loki.

“Loki.”

Suddenly she wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to say to him. The peace she had held inside since the previous night was suddenly all gone. She had never felt quite so confused before. She knew she had felt something last night. What, she couldn’t say. She wanted to put it into words for him but couldn’t even do so in her own head. And last night…it hadn’t actually meant anything to him. She knew exactly why he had kissed her back. How could she not? She was the one that prodded the wounds and said the right words to convince him. He had kissed her to hurt Thor.

Anything she said now…well she knew all too well Loki’s bighting tongue. Who didn’t? And she didn’t think she could bear to face it in this moment.

He was looking at her. His face a mask. Emotionless, still, and unreadable. She was just about to open her mouth to say something but then a sneer flickered across his face. Sif faltered. Finally it was he who spoke. “The Allmother will have questions which Thor is both unequipped and incompetent of answering. Good day Lady Sif. It was a most…interesting adventure.”

She was left to stare after him as he walked away, tall, stiff, and unyielding.

**********

It had been the same thing as it always was. Thor took the credit. He always did. Never mind that if someone hadn’t known where to strike the beast, they’d still be battling it. Never mind that Sif had actually dealt the killing blow. No, people where showering him with praise and of course Thor couldn’t resist but to lap it up. It was disgusting.

Loki had seen where things were going. It would be another feast and another evening of ‘Thor’s Great Adventures’. He could live without it.

He had gone back to the waterfall, sat down with a book he had brought for just such an occasion, and prepared to spend the rest of the day alone. He didn’t mind. Not really. He was used to spending a lot of time alone.

It was a good book. And he was halfway through it, completely engrossed, when he had heard nearby footsteps and Sif had arrived.

Immediately, he could tell that she was angry, and immediately he knew why. _One incident and she’s furious…she has no idea…_ he thought absently, _no idea what it’s like to be his brother._

He smirked. “How’s the feast?”

She was clearly reluctant to talk but he’d prodded, wanting to hear someone else’s spite for a change.

“Tell me. Why have you left the feast early? I would think you’d be enjoying your victory.”

“It’s not my victory.”

“True, when the chief was thanking Thor, I did not hear my brother mention who had struck the killing blow…or for that matter who had known where to strike it.” A wave of hurt that he would die before admitting to another living soul, shot through him. He snapped his book shut. She mustn’t see the raw wound. No one must.

He was surprised when she thanked him.

“I never could have killed that thing without your help. How did you know?”

Someone had actually noticed. He felt an odd sense of gratitude and struggled to keep it out of his voice as he responded: “I read.”

“So all those times you’re in the library...you’re reading about things like that?”

_All those times you, Thor, and the Warriors Three mock me for preferring books over, what was it last time? ‘The much nobler test of arms’. If you knew how many times your hides had been saved because I spent the afternoon putting up with all your belittling and teasing, and stayed inside with those books…_

No. They were having a civil conversation. Don’t make it bitter. It was strangely nice to sit here and talk. Even if they were talking about Thor. He shook it off and smiled. “That…and magic…and lands, and customs, and worlds…there’s so much to learn. So much to know. I can’t understand how my brother could have so much disdain for it all.”

Sif shivered.

“It’s cold.”

“Is it?” It didn’t feel cold. The temperature felt pleasant on his skin. He felt comfortable and at home in weather like this. But Sif said it was cold. Probably she was searching for an excuse to leave. “I don’t feel it.” _Let her leave then._ And he opened his book again. “I am sure there is fire and warmth back at the feast.”

But she didn’t take the excuse. Instead she talked of confronting Thor in the morning. Would she really? He’d love to see that. Maybe she’d say all the things he himself longed to say.

“He can’t even see his friends? He can’t see me?”

Loki froze. He wasn’t sure how to handle this. He was the god of lies, the god trickery…he couldn’t…he couldn’t deal with a broken heart. And maybe that’s what this really was. He’d been thinking a moment ago just how much Sif and he had in common. At least where Thor was concerned. But perhaps not. She was hurt because she loved Thor. And Thor had been careless. Of course.

Still, even though this realization shot an odd sensation through him that he could not, or would not, identify, he felt sorry for her. A thousand cold and biting comments occurred to him but he pushed them all aside.

“I know my brother does care for you Sif…”

When she came over and kissed him, he was shocked. He hadn’t expected it. And she’d regret it. She was upset at Thor and she would regret this tomorrow…

He pulled away. He was surprised at how hard it was to do so. “Sif…”

“Just once, don’t you just want to be out of his shadow? Don’t you want to hurt him?”

Loki froze. Yes. Oh yes. She had no idea. And kissing her, it had felt so good. And it had been so short a kiss. It was already barely a memory and he wanted it back. He wanted to feel it again. He wanted to remember it.

It wasn’t fair to Sif. She’d regret it. She’d hate herself and him in the morning. But he wanted this. He wanted this so much, it surprised him. Could it be he’d wanted this for a while?

It wouldn’t mean anything. Not to her. But even if it was only this moment, only tonight…well, perhaps it made him a villain, but he would take it.

He would step out of Thor’s shadow. Loki wouldn’t let him enter this moment. This would just his. His and Sif’s. And to Helheim with what came tomorrow.

And yet for all resolutions and attempts to look at it cynically, when morning came, he couldn’t help but hope. Just a little. If Sif could remain angry at Thor…

As they all packed their bags and prepared to depart the village, Loki kept an eye on Sif and Thor. He kept waiting to see if she would tell him off like she had planned. But she didn’t. In fact she smiled at Thor quite warmly.

Perhaps she meant to forget last night. Loki found that his left hand was tensed into a fist.

The six began to walk back to where the Bifrost would take them home. Loki hung back, watching Sif. He waited and watched. Watched for anything that might show something had changed, that it wasn’t all the same as it had been yesterday morning.

Thor was handing her something, and then suddenly she was beaming up him and grasping his hand. Loki looked away. He didn’t let himself feel hurt or angry. He didn’t let himself feel anything but coldness. He’d known hadn’t he? And she had made it clear last night exactly where they stood before it even began.

Somewhere in the night Loki had felt a peace, a peace he thought he had never felt before. It was as if for one, brief moment, with Sif in his arms, the raging storm he had felt since he was a child, had suddenly stilled.

But Sif hadn’t felt it. That much was clear.

They arrived in Asgard and the others had all gone off, Thor self-importantly taking on the job of reporting to Odin.

Left alone, Sif had turned and said his name.

“Loki.”

He’d composed his features, desperate to be away, desperate to hide his feelings even from himself, desperate not to crack, desperate to lie…

She had stared at him. He’d seen the fear in her eyes. It was disgusting. She was terrified that he’d tell Thor about what happened. For a brief moment, Loki considered threatening her, mocking her, frightening her with threats of telling Thor and the Warriors Three, considered even doing so, imagined all the belittling and cruel phrases he would use as he described it, …but he couldn’t. He didn’t think even he, the god of lies, could tell that tale without baring his soul. And that he would, he must, never do.

 “The Allmother will have questions,” he said shortly, “which Thor is both unequipped and incompetent of answering. Good day Lady Sif. It was a most…interesting adventure.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, trying to look regal, trying to look proud, trying to pretend that he cared no more than she did.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sif buckled on her sword as she walked through the palace. It was not quite yet evening. She could get a few hours of training in before tonight. Tonight there was to be a feast. A celebration honoring an Asgardian victory many centuries old. Celebrating anything was the last thing she wanted to do. But if she trained hard enough and drank hard enough, perhaps she’d at least sleep well tonight.

“Sif?”

She turned at the sound of her name. Frigga was standing in a doorway, beckoning for her. Sif obeyed the summons and followed her into the room. Frigga shut the door behind them.

“I’m sorry to waylay you,” said Frigga, “but I saw you passing.”

“Can I be of some assistance?”

“No. I merely wished to inform you. Thor has left Asgard.”

“What? When?”

“This afternoon. As you are his close friend, I thought you ought to know.”

“Has the Allfather been informed?”

Frigga laughed. “Oh yes. It was Thor himself who informed him. He went and told his father in no uncertain terms that he had no wish to be king. That he would not be king. And that With the Bifrost once again whole, he wanted nothing but to return to the Lady Jane.”

Sif stared. “Thor said all that?”

“Yes.”

“And what did Odin say?”

There was a chuckle. “At first I think he wanted to be furious. But then Thor spoke of his love. I believe until now Odin believed it mere infatuation. Thor has always gotten…well, ideas. I love my son dearly but it has not always been in his nature to be constant. But I’ve known for some time that in this case it was different. That the Lady Jane was special. But Odin did not realize it until Thor told him. Thor was quite surprised you see when he realized Odin didn’t know. He thought Odin had to know how deeply in love he was with the Lady Jane. It’s strange is it not? When we love, it is with our whole being. It’s so strong and powerful a force and every fiber of our bodies feel it, so that we are so often sure everyone else must see it as well. And yet in reality, it is the emotion we so often hide away the deepest and the farthest out of reach, so that no soul would ever know. We hide it even from those whom we most desperately wish to know of it. It makes you wonder, does it not? If we ourselves can hide it so well, might not others too? How much do we truly miss?”

“I…don’t know,” Sif faltered.

“This morning I encouraged Thor to speak to Odin of his true feelings. And I am pleased to say he took my advice. Once Odin saw how Thor felt, as a father, he could not stand in the way. And so Thor has departed. I am afraid he won’t be here for the feast. Odin wished him to delay until the morrow, but Thor was eager to be on Midgard. I can’t say I blame him.”

“Oh.” Sif, whose thoughts had been distracted by Frigga’s earlier speech, suddenly came back to the present. She couldn’t stop herself from letting out a huff of annoyance. “Thank you for telling me in person, but I don’t _care_ what Thor does.” She knew it sounded petulant, probably unconvincing and certainly the tone was disrespectful to the Allmother, but she was sick and tired of everyone treating her like a scorned woman. If anything she was happy Thor would no longer be mopping around for Jane. He could be happy now and that was good. She was pleased for him.

“I never thought you did,” said Frigga and there was meaning in her voice.

Meaning which brought Sif up short.

She knew. Of course knew. This was Frigga. Frigga, the woman who blatantly used her magic to visit Loki as a way to get around Odin’s command that she not visit in person. Frigga who sent Loki the finest fruits from her garden. Frigga who sent him books, books which she spent hours in the library carefully choosing, tailoring them to his tastes. Frigga who would have been sure that only her most trusted palace guards be assigned to guard Loki’s cell. Frigga who would have most certainly asked for reports from those same guards as to how her son faired and if he had any visitors…and they would have told her of Sif’s visits and Frigga, the wise Allmother, would have instantly understood.

Sif froze, staring wide-eyed at Frigga. But the woman merely smiled and stepping forward placed a comforting hand upon Sif’s shoulder and gently kissed her forehead, before pulling back and saying,

“Even in hardships and suffering, or perhaps especially during those times, shared love is something to cherish. Even in death the memory of love can be a comfort. No matter the dark times, love can always bring joy. Remember that dear one.” And with that, Frigga turned and left a stunned Sif with her own thoughts.

Sif did not go to the training grounds. Instead she went to her chambers. She sat and she thought. Searching her memories, taking apart scenes and encounters, pulling out words and phrases that she had used. As the evening wore on, she found herself more and more dissatisfied.

At some point there was a knock on the door. Volstagg, seeing why she was not at the feast. But she had lit no candles, and there was no telltale light to give her away. She had remained quiet, pretending not to be there, until Volstagg departed.

It was different that evening.

Before it always been her mind, screaming at her to not to go, and her body (or her instinct) urging to get up and see him. Tonight, her thoughts were raging at her to move, to stand, to go….but her limbs felt heavy and dead.

It was late by the time she forced herself to stand. She had spent hours going through each memory, each encounter…

She forced herself to the door and out. Nothing she had ever done in her entire life had ever taken so much effort.

As she passed the corridor outside the feast hall, she could hear that sound of voices raised in song. But it was a sleepy, tired song that came near the end of revelries.

She made her way down into the dungeons. As she approached Loki’s cell, she found it harder this time to avoid glancing towards the guards as she remembered that Frigga would surely hear of this visit.

Once more, as she had done on many, many previous nights, she stood before Loki’s cell and looked in. He was reading as always. He turned a page.

Sif tried to force herself to speak but the words wouldn’t come. She merely stood and watched. It was just like every other night she had spent here. And she would return to her room with the same aching emptiness…

No. No!

She was a warrior of Asgard. She was brave, and true bravery was not just in the heat of battle. In many ways, that was the easiest kind of bravery and this which she needed to call upon now was the hardest.

Sif studied Loki, trying to take in every line, every curve, every shade of color in his hair, upon his skin, and in his eyes. Tonight might easily be the last time she could ever come here. If she spoke…if she spoke and was rejected, if she spoke and he remained silent, if she spoke and he bit back….then she would never return. She could not return.

So why risk it?

Because this was unendurable.

Because this was hell.

Because this must end.

Because she had gone over it and over it in her head and realized she had been wanting in the past.

Because she owed him this if nothing else.

Because…

“Loki.”

There was silence. He didn’t even look up from his book.

Her voice sounded strange in the dungeons. She had spent so many silent evenings here, that to speak sounded wrong in her own ears.

“Loki there’s something you must hear. Something which I must say.” He turned another page in his book. She raised her chin a little higher: defiant. She would do this. She would say this. He must hear this whether he wished it or not. “I never told you. Perhaps that was my fault. Perhaps yours. Though more likely there was shared blame. I don’t know what the past meant to you. I doubt it meant a great deal. But for me…” She almost faltered. She almost stopped. “For me…it always mattered. You always mattered.  It wasn’t about Thor. It was about you. Really…it was always about you. I l…” She stopped. He was still reading. How could he still be reading?

She kept standing, wishing, praying that he would at least glance up. She deserved that if nothing more. Whatever his reasons for what had happened between them, whatever his motivations, their history owed her a glance, one brief acknowledgement…

The guards were there. They would have heard. They would have seen. And they would tell Frigga. And the Allmother would realize how very wrong she was. No, these feelings were meant to stay hidden. You had to keep them secret. While buried, yes, they ate at you, but brought out into the open, they burnt like acid.

And Loki just kept reading. Well. That was her answer at any rate. Because she realized that to make certain she had at least once told Loki what he had truly meant to her had only been half the reason she had come here tonight. The other half, if she were honest with herself, was to find out if perhaps the Allmother had been right. Had she missed something from Loki as well?

No. It was clear she had not.

Sif moved, shifting her weight, preparing to turn away and leave. Leave and never return…when Loki and the book disappeared. He wasn’t at the far wall anymore. He was inches away from her, kneeling down so that they were level. He was so close. If the cell’s barrier were not there, she would have felt the heat of his breath. And he was studying her, with an expression more open than she had ever seen upon his face in all the time she had known him. There was hope, there was doubt, there was, yes, even now there was some anger and a sneer, a sneer she now suddenly realized and hated herself for not seeing sooner, which was his protection, but more importantly there was her answer. There was love.

“I love you Loki.”

There was much to say. There was much to heal. There was much to share.

There would be no sleep this night, but there would at least be peace.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing and feel up to trying an original work, you can check out my online web serial Holly(Woods), which is a cross between mystery, romance and soap opera. You can check the first chapter out [here.](https://hollywoodserial.wordpress.com/2013/01/25/1-the-audition/)


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